The Scarlet Letter

Disclaimer: As this story develops, I am finding myself exploring areas that I never really intended to explore. For me, writing fiction that is realistic and honest, if not entirely flattering, is essential. So I'm just warning you that this chapter deals with the issue of domestic violence. While I'm not trying to excuse or condone abuse of any kind, I felt that this particular scene was important to the development of Dave's character. It is not my goal to offend anyone, and I hope that you can read this with an open mind.

When he first started in the wrestling business, his trainers had warned their classes that only those who truly loved the lifestyle would make it for the long haul. It would demand absolute dedication of the mind, body, and spirit. Without all three, there was no chance for success.

In the beginning, Dave had been determined that he wouldn't be one of those guys who half-assed this career, who quit in the middle, or who lost the opportunity to live the WWE dream because of apathy.

But as he made his way back to the hotel after Monday night's house show, he wasn't sure he cared enough anymore. What had started as a great career had turned into an escape over the years. Though it was supposed to be the other way around, he found his professional life becoming his solace from the chaos of his personal life.

When Meredith entered his life, things began to change, though. He found himself longing for those moments when he could actually go back to Tampa, when he could fall into the arms of the one person who truly brought him serenity in the midst of his tumultous life. He had never meant to be a professional wrestler forever, he wasn't a lifer like Flair or Hogan, and he was finding himself longing for retirement more and more often.

He pushed into the hotel room, already dialing his phone. Ever since she had hung up on him yesterday, Dave hadn't been able to get ahold of his girlfriend and it was starting to scare him slightly. He knew she had been pretty shaken up, but he hadn't gone a day without talking to her since their second date.

As his phone began to ring, he heard a familiar song from the interior of the hotel suite. Walking into the room, he smiled at the sight awaiting him. "What are you doing here?"

Meredith looked up and then nodded to the police report on the table. She had tried to put it out of her mind. She had tried to ignore it, to tell herself that it was nothing and they could talk about it on Wednesday when he got home. But she couldn't get one interaction out of her head.

Krista descended upon them, her arms crossed and her face red with anger. "You cannot just walk away from this, David," she hissed.

"If I don't walk away, Krista, we'll both be sorry," he informed his wife.

Noting the stoic look on her face, Dave dropped his gym bag and took the papers from the table. He perused them, his heart dropping into his stomach. "You know there's an explanation for this, right?"

She nodded and put her whine glass on the table, leaning her elbows on her knees. "Oh, I was banking on it."

He laid the report back on the table and looked around the room. "You mind if I take a shower first?" Meredith shook her head and rubbed her hands over her face. "Give me ten minutes."

Sighing, she leaned back and hugged her arms around her body. She was sure that he would have a great explanation, but she wasn't sure she would buy it. The report itself was pretty damning, complete with a horrifying photo of hand-shaped bruises on Krista's thin arms and a golf ball-sized welt on the side of her head.

Of course, it was a game of he said/she said, but with Dave, that didn't amount to much. She had learned he was a man of very few words, and the report did little to discount that theory. When questioned by the police, he'd merely said that things had gotten out of hand and that he wanted to speak to a lawyer before explaining himself further.

Inside the bathroom, Dave wiped the steam from the mirror and watched the droplets of water falling from the ends of his dark hair. He could honestly say that he never thought this day would come. The case had been sealed, and he guessed not even Daniel could get ahold of the complete file. But it was over now. There was no need to alarm his girlfriend.

Stepping out of the bathroom in shorts and a tee shirt, Dave sighed and lowered himself to the couch beside Meredith, taking her hand in his. "I didn't put those bruises on her arms," he said, nodding toward the picture.

"And her head?" Meredith asked, unsure if she really wanted him touching her at the moment.

He turned his body toward hers and pulled his leg up under his body. "It was that weekend I came home after being gone for, like, two weeks, remember?" Meredith nodded. "I didn't get in until about two in the morning."

"I picked you up at the airport," she reminisced with him. "We went to Starbucks."

He could feel the tension in her hands as he rubbed her palm with his thumb. There was nothing he could say to make her feel better, but he knew that she deserved the truth. Releasing her hand, he leaned back and stretched his arm across the back of the seat. "It wasn't an accident," he admitted. "I wanted to kill her."

The cold admission made her draw back. Meredith watched the regret playing across Dave's face, the remorse in his dark eyes. He was staring at the floor, as if replaying the incident in his mind.

His mind was filled with thoughts of Meredith. She had flown out to see him twice on the road during his extended travel dates. And when she had shown up at the airport, he knew he had never been happier to see anyone. The smell of her perfume seemed to waft in the air, even after she had dropped him off in front of the house. The feeling of her kisses lingered on his lips as he turned his key in the lock and stepped into the house.

If he was lucky, Krista would already be asleep and he wouldn't have to deal with her until morning. His mother had warned him before he got married. "Son, physical attraction is not enough to sustain a relationship, especially a marriage." But he couldn't see beyond that moment, beyond the sensual beauty that she portrayed.

When he was a struggling bouncer, dreaming of making it in body building or professional wrestling, she had been happy. When nobody knew Dave Batista from the bum on the corner begging for change, her life was good. But the moment he donned Leviathon's colored contact lenses and fangs, things began to change. He wasn't world reknowned, but he was asked for the occasional autograph at Krispy Kremes or the laundry mat. Breaking into the WWE only amplified her selfishness and jealousy.

By the time her true nature began to show through, they already had two daughters, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to easily walk away. It started small enough, with a few fights over the amount of time he spent away from home and the amount of women that were throwing themselves at him. But as it escalated, he found himself wondering if he even wanted to fix it.

Locking the door behind him, Dave sat his gym bag in the entry and noticed that the living room light was on. Krista sat on the couch, tears streaking her exotic face as she drank from a nearly-empty whine bottle. There were dark bruises on both of her biceps and she was rocking back and forth, sobs racking her shoulders.

"What the hell happened?" Dave asked, immediately going to her side and wrapping his arms around his wife, all thoughts of Meredith and any other problems escaping him at the fragile sight.

But Krista pushed him away and sneered, like a wounded animal. "Don't you touch me," he hissed. "This is your fault."

Drawing back, he raised his eyebrows in confusion and looked around the living room. The family pictures had been ripped from the mantle, glass littering the hearth where they had fallen. The coffee table had been tipped over. "Krista, what happened?" he asked.

She shook her head and took another drink. "I got called out of a meeting today. She's been skipping classes for a month now. She's failing three of her classes. Do you have any idea how embarrassed I was, sitting in that principal's office while he told me what a screw up my daughter was?"

Dave looked around, the confusion deepening. All of this had something to do with one of the girls? "Who?" he asked.

"Who do you think?" she asked, rolling her eyes. "Do you honestly believe that Eden could have done this?" she motioned to the bruises when referencing their ten-year-old.

Dave reached out, his hand magnetically drawn to the bruises. When Krista jerked her arm away, he looked up. "Rebekah did this to you?" he asked skeptically. Sure, the fifteen-year-old had been known to talk back on occasion, but he didn't want to believe that she was capable of assaulting her own mother.

Scoffing, Krista stood and dropped her whine bottle to the table. It teetered and fell to the floor, but she didn't seem to notice. "Would I make this up?" He didn't answer, which only further angered the woman in front of him. "I don't even know why I'm talking to you about this. You wouldn't know the first thing about her anyway."

Standing, he found himself needing to distance himself from her, even in her condition. How she managed to look beaten and defeated, and still make him want to inflict more pain was a feat in itself. Sometimes he thought it was her gift.

"I came home from that horrendous meeting, and do you know what she was doing? She was making out with her boyfriend on the couch! She knows the rules. No boys in the house when I'm not here, but she decided that it would be okay. When I kicked him out, she started screaming."

Wouldn't know what that's like, Dave thought sarcastically. Instead, he held a hand up. "Just tell me how it got to this," he motioned to the carnage around him.

"She started bitching about how horrible I am and about how she can't blame you for not wanting to be home with me. She was throwing a childish tantrum, throwing pictures on the floor and saying she wished she could just be with you all the time."

It began to make sense to Dave in that instance. As much as Rebekah claimed to think he was lame, she had always been the most excited to see him come home. And it annoyed Krista to no end. She would tell anyone who would listen that she busted her ass to raise her girls right, even when their father was never home. But she was also quick to point out that they seemed to forget everything she did for them when Dave came home for a few days.

Shaking her head, Krista continued her story. "She said she was leaving, that she couldn't stand to be around me, but I told her she wasn't going anywhere. That's when she grabbed my arms and started squeezing, telling me that she hated me."

Another round of tears found their way down her cheeks, and for a brief moment, Dave felt sorry for her. He hated it when the girls told him he wasn't as cool as everyone thought. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to hear them say they hated him. Krista might have had her bitchy moments, but she was still their mother.

"I do the best I can, Dave, but I just can't," she started and then stopped, shaking her head. "I can't keep doing this."

He was trying to think of a response, staring at the floor beside the fireplace. A small red stain drew his attention. "Is that blood?" he asked, looking to his wife with a new fire in his eyes.

"I don't know," she answered defiantly, but Dave barely heard. He was already down the hall.

It never occured to him that Rebekah could have cut herself on the glass from the picture frames. He immediately went to a worst case scenario as he burst through her bedroom door to find his eldest safe in her bed. Her back was to the door and he could see that her shoulders were shaking.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she flinched when he touched her. "Hey, Bekah Boo," he whispered, rubbing her back gently. "You awake?" She just nodded. "What happened?"

When she rolled over, Dave felt like he could vomit. Her right eye was swollen and her lip was cut. She looked as though she had gone three rounds in MMA, so far from his untouched baby girl. "I didn't mean to hurt her, Daddy," she whispered.

Clinching his left hand into a fist, Dave continued rubbing Rebekah's arm. The last thing he wanted was to scare her more than she already was. "Can you tell me what happened, Kiddo?"

She sniffled and wiped her nose. "She came home all pissed off because she had to go to school. And I know I shouldn't have been skipping classes, but she didn't have to take it out on Brian. She was calling him all these names and telling him to get out of the house, and her face was so red," she explained, struggling to sit in the bed. "She told me I was a selfish bitch and that I was an embarrassment," she whispered. "I didn't mean to embarrass anybody."

He nodded, every fiber of his being aching to throw his wife across the room. If the young girl before him hadn't been shaking so violently, he would have done just that. Instead, he pulled her into his arms and rocked her. "I'm sorry I wasn't here."

Rebekah cried on her daddy's shoulder for a moment and then pulled back again. "I just wanted to get away from her. I was gonna go to Brian's, but she told me I couldn't. I didn't mean to hurt her. I just wanted her to move."

He kissed the side of her head and nodded, crushing her to his chest again. "It's okay, baby. Shh," he whispered. "I'm here now, okay?" They sat in silence for a long moment and Dave reflected on the fact that he was partly at fault. Had he not been with Meredith, if he had come straight home, maybe this could have been avoided.

"Sweetheart, I need you to tell me what else happened, okay?" He didn't want to hear it. He knew that her answer would only drive him to the one thing he had been working so hard to avoid. He would snap, but he had to know.

She sniffled and fought to compose herself. "She pushed me to make me stop squeezing her arms. And then she smacked me," she instinctively rubbed her fingers over her lip. "Her ring," she explained, her brown eyes wide as she stared at her father, as if begging him to believe her.

His heart was racing at the thought of his wife laying a hand on his daughter. They had agreed that spanking the girls when they were younger was acceptable, as long is it was done in the right way. And they had agreed that they would never administer any discipline when they were angry. And she had broken the promise. As far as Dave was concerned, all bets were off.

He placed a soft kiss on the bruise on her swollen eye lid. "Alright, listen," he said, thinking quickly. If he didn't get out of the house, he was going to kill Krista, and he wasn't going to feel an ounce of guilt. "I want you to pack some clothes and your tooth brush, okay? We're gonna spend the night with John." Kissing her head again, he stood, pondering whether or not he should go to the police.

For the first time, he wished that he was still living in DC. His mother would know what to do. As it stood, the only people he really knew in town were his fellow wrestlers, and most of them wouldn't be home. He hadn't seen John Cena in weeks, but running into him at a Supershow over the weekend, and discussing the fact that they finally had an off day at the same time, now seemed like an act of destiny.

He dialed the phone and hoped for an answer. It was already 2:30, and there was no guarantee that his friend would even hear the phone. "Hey, it's Dave. . . Look, man, I'm sorry it's late, but I got a situation here. . . Yeah. You mind if Beckah and I crash with you tonight? . . . It's a long story. . . Thanks, man."

He turned and smiled as Rebekah debated what to pack. "I'm going to get your sister," he said.

"She's not here," Rebekah told him. "She's spending the night with Kennedy." Krista's younger brother had a nine-year-old daughter. Eden and Kennedy were inseparable, and it wasn't unusual for his youngest daughter to spend a school night with her cousin.

He would go to the police first thing in the morning. He was tempted to go immediately, but Rebekah's eyes were dark and heavy, and she needed to try to sleep. At the moment, he had to put his own emotions aside and think of her best interests. He could admit he hadn't been the world's most available dad, but he wasn't about to turn his back on her now.

He was fishing his keys out of his pocket when Krista rose from the couch again and met them by the door. "Rebekah, Sweetheart," she whispered, a horrified look crossing her face when she saw the swelling in her daughter's young face. "I'm so sorry, baby."

"We'll talk about this tomorrow, Krista," Dave hissed through gritted teeth, the sight of her making his stomach churn.

Ignoring her husband, Krista put her hands on Rebekah's shoulders and leaned closer to her. "You know I love you, right, Sweetie?"

He watched as Rebekah's young body trembled in fear. Stepping around her, he put a hand on Krista's shoulder and narrowed his eyes at her. "I said we'll talk about it tomorrow," he repeated slowly. "Move."

She turned a venomous gaze to her husband. "You weren't even here. Nothing that happens in this house is any of your business," she spat. "You don't get to be the hero."

Without thought, and without warning, he grabbed the back of her neck and pushed her to the floor as hard as he could. He knew it was wrong. He knew it was inexusable. But as he started the car and cast another glance at his beaten child, he couldn't seem to feel badly about what he had done. She had hit the ground with a thud, and he hadn't stuck around to make sure she was okay. He didn't care. He honestly hoped she was dead.

"She got the police before we did the next morning, but I lawyered up before anyone could really ask me anything." He looked back at her, wondering what the hell she could possibly be thinking of her at that moment. He knew what he thought of himself, but her opinion was much more important.

Meredith stared at the coffee table, a million questions swarming through her head. "That was the weekend you told me you were leaving her," she mumbled, turning to meet his eye.

Dave nodded and rubbed his chin before leaning back on the couch. "Krista dropped the charges before my lawyer got to the station. We all went home and they talked everything out. Nobody meant for it to go that far," he shook his head. "But I knew it was never going to be the same."

Meredith wasn't sure what she was feeling, but she knew she had never heard Dave talk so much. And while she didn't like everything he was saying, she respected his honesty, even though it didn't necessarily paint him in the most flattering light.

The action itself wasn't as important to her as the motivation behind it or his attitude in the aftermath. "Do you regret it?" she asked, picking at the bottom of her sock distractedly.

His silence spoke volumes as Dave considered how to answer the question. "I'm not proud of it," he answered finally. "It scares me to think that I'm capable of doing that kind of thing. But," he met her eye and held her gaze, "I'm not entirely sorry for it, either. I know the rules, Meredith. I know there's no reason to hit a woman, especially for a guy my size. But I was holding my daughter's hand and she was terrified, and I wasn't really seeing Krista as a woman. I was seeing her as the person who had hurt my kid. I reacted." He shook his head, his eyes filling with conflicted confusion. "And I can't say I wouldn't do it again, given the same circumstances."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Meredith asked, unsure of where the question had come from. It was as if none of her thoughts were connecting as she tried to make sense of the last few days.

He raised an eyebrow and exhaled a slow breath. "Didn't have anything to do with you, Meredith. Someday, I hope that my girls will be a part of your life, but at the moment, it was a family issue and it didn't concern you."

"You sure it wasn't just because you didn't wanna have this conversation?" she asked, raising an eyebrow and running her fingers through her hair and alleviating some of the tension between them.

Dave couldn't help smirking slightly. "That was part of it," he admitted. Taking her hand again, he lifted her palm to his lips and pressed a soft kiss there. "Look, I'm no saint, Meredith. I try to keep my cool because I know the damage I can cause." He shook his head, briefly thinking of an incident from his bouncing days. "Sometimes it gets away from me. That," he nodded at the police report, "is something you're going to have to decide if you can forgive. Because I can't take it back."

One thing she had always admired was the fact that Dave never made promises he knew he couldn't keep. He never promised that he would always be there for her, because he knew that his career made that impossible. He never promised that their life together would be easy, because he knew that their circumstances wouldn't allow it. And he never promised that they would be together forever, because their history proved that nothing could predict that.

Even now, she realized, he made no promises that he would never hurt her. He hadn't wept about his regret or vowed never to let his anger get the better of him. He had made his decisions, followed his emotions and his heart, and he readily excepted his consequences. Sure, he had done some bad things, but Meredith just couldn't bring herself to think that he was a bad person.

"Why don't you take the bed," Dave whispered, kissing her forehead as he stood from the couch. "I'll sleep out here. Give you some time to think."

Meredith stood and hitched her pants up on her hips before hooking her forefinger into the waistband of his shorts. "Dave," she whispered, pulling him to her. "Right now, I think I just want you to remind me how gentle you can be."